The BBQ
by Inks Inc
Summary: Gibbs doesn't like birthday parties. Even his own. Especially his own. Warning: Reference to Spanking.


Gibbs stared at the previously meticulous landscape that was his back yard apprehensively. There were balloons and there were ribbons, there were tablecloths and there were place settings. It was, to a reasonable person, a very tasteful garden party set up. To Gibbs, it was an infiltration of his rightful territory, an egregious advance over enemy lines. Plus, there was pork. He really liked pork, on a normal day, but this wasn't a normal day. This was apparently the day where his property rights were up in smoke and his eyes watered from the actual smoke that hovered over them. Four suspects, two male and two female were lined up in front of him. The female portion of his perp pool seemed utterly unfazed by the jumping line of his jaw. The male portion on the other hand, sweated under his gaze and shuffled where they stood. Deciding that they had all stood to attention for long enough, Gibbs unclenched his jaw with a superhuman effort.

"What is going on here?"

His voice was super low and super controlled. A good thing, one would assume. But that assumption would be idiotic and both Tony and Tim, flinching visibly, knew it. Without shame or second thoughts, they turned their attentions to the girls, begging them silently with their eyes. They were innocent, they were for the first time, genuinely innocent of all wrong doing. They had been pulled into the madness, they hadn't created it. Abby saw the sheer shimmering panic in their eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a party, Gibbs," she explained brightly, "And you have the best garden, so it's a garden party…in your garden." She beamed. "Doesn't it look great?"

Gibbs blinked.

"A party?" he echoed dumbly, "A party…for what?"

Everyone frowned at him.

"Your birthday," Abby sighed after a second, more unsurprised by his confusion than she would have liked. "Today is your birthday. You were born on this date….uhh, a certain amount of years ago. Traditionally, we as a human race, like to mark such an event. With balloons and cake. Or in your case, balloons and bourbon. It's a human thing and you're a human." She shrugged happily. "It's your birthday party Gibbs. Ducky and Palmer are on their way, they're bringing more food. It'll be great." She shuffled somewhat, arching her shoulders. "Well it _will_ be great…if you let me out of this line up to go and check on the food." She wrinkled her nose. "I smell burning."

Ziva groaned.

The beef sliders.

They were going to be the best part.

Gibbs gaped somewhat, before realising that there were some battles he was destined to lose. Swallowing his sudden and irritating lump in his throat, he nodded brusquely. "You can get out of the line up in a sec," he grunted. In his mind's eye, he knew exactly who had done what and who had said what. He turned to the anxious looking boys and raised a brow. "This was all their idea, wasn't it?" he asked quietly, jerking his head towards the girls. Usually Tony and Tim would be more chivalrous, but in that moment, they both decided to hell with it. "It was," they both tattled unashamedly and in tandem, "It was all their idea. They did it."

Abby and Ziva hissed under their breath, scorching the snitches with their eyes.

Gibbs nodded slowly, before opening his mouth once more.

But he never got to say the words.

"Well ain't this a sight for sore eyes? Who knew you got such good decorating taste probie?"

Gibbs felt his eyes widen on his four party planners, before he turned on his heel of some accord other than his own. Rugged and ragged he stood, holding considerable liquor in his arms. The usually out of date shirt hung open at the neck, and a wide smile adorned his face. Shaking his head slowly, Gibbs turned back to his four with a dangerously raised brow burning into his frow. "And which one of you did this?" he asked darkly, "Which one of you organised this?"

This time, the male portion of his perp line up shifted uncomfortably.

Gibbs' brow rose further.

"It was both of you."

It wasn't a question, so neither answered. Neither could they lament the fact that the girls were nodding their heads vigorously, ratting them out without compunction. Karma, and all that. The sheer extent of all the fuss that had been made suddenly loomed large and Gibbs, being Gibbs and unable to deal with…emotions, began to flare up. Opening his mouth, the change in his demeanour from stunned to snarling registered on the four's faces as they shuffled nervously. The first syllable didn't even push past his tonsils when he found his mouth shutting hard and fast. Franks smelt like the usual combination of sea air and stale tobacco. His hot breath tickled Gibbs' ear as he leaned into him, so that only he could hear, the bottles rattling in his arms.

"Probie…these four have gone to a whole lot of effort for your sorry butt. I don't care if you're not a party frigging animal, you are gonna smile and let that stick out of your ass for once. I also don't care how old you are or that you got a team of your own now. If you act like a four year old about this probie, I will take you on a walk down memory lane. That walk will be to that woodshed I know you still got and I will tan your damned hide." He stood back and smiled, covering the moment in front of the team, clapping Gibbs on the shoulder. "So, whaddya say probie?"

Gibbs swallowed.

Half of him was screaming in angry indignation. He didn't need…hell, he wasn't about to _allow_ Franks to make threats like that. He was the one who made threats like that now. He had earned that progression. The other half of him was screaming at him in self preservation. Rightly or wrongly, he knew Franks would have no problem in following through on his threat. The same way he knew that he wouldn't, if it were ten years down the line and DiNozzo was about to act like a horse's ass. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes and breathed deeply. He was an emotionally stunted man, and he knew it, but he had to try.

And he was a lucky emotional mute, because he had four people who would always keep trying.

Leaning around Franks, he raised a brow at his line up before holding out his hand.

"Alright then, if you're drinking you ain't driving."

He smiled at their smiles and felt a sudden lightness course through him, helped by Franks' grunt of approval. But…he was serious, and his hand remained out and his brow remained high and questioning.

"Keys. Hand em' over, the four of you. You're crashing here tonight."

…..

A/N: Random fluff.

…..


End file.
